


if this really is love

by foreverwonder



Series: in darkness, we lurk. [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Break Up, Detective!Akaashi, Getting Back Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Break Up, Reporter!Bokuto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8421364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverwonder/pseuds/foreverwonder
Summary: They weren't ready.
But it didn't mean that he stopped loving him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There's no update for sunny days this week because I haven't finished the latest chapter, haha...
> 
> This is a side story/companion piece to [sunny days](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6809008) which takes place in chapter 11, where it has been noted by many that Akaashi had taken a few days off. 
> 
> BokuAka is very, very hard to write.

He wasn’t surprised to see an extra pair of shoes at the genkan of his home when he unlocked the door—scuffed, and well-worn, it was carelessly thrown about. He stared at it for a moment before toeing his own pair of polished shoes off, placing them neatly at the side, by the wall. The lights at the landing was still off, save for a soft glow that was coming from the kitchen. Rustling could be heard from the general direction, yet Akaashi wasn’t alarmed, his hands were hanging loosely by his sides as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it at the rack, and undid his tie.

He padded softly against the wooden flooring, his socks muffling his thuds as the sounds were drowned out by the continuous rummaging in his kitchen. But Akaashi remained calm as he entered the lit kitchen and his eyes landed on a naked, broad back, in front of his refrigerator, the owner of said back had his head stuck inside. A towel was draped over the person’s head, but Akaashi knew who he was.

“What are you doing here, Bokuto-san?” he asked, loud and clear, earning a squawk from the person followed by a loud thud where he hit his head in the refrigerator as he tried to straighten up. Akaashi didn’t say anything else, his lidded eyes calmly watching as Bokuto turned around slowly, his streaked hair damp from a shower and his eyes bright gold. Akaashi’s fingers curled inwards involuntarily as he watched the other man gave the detective a tentative smile.

“Hey, Akaashi!” Bokuto greeted cheerfully, although the detective could hear the slightest of strain in his voice. “I was looking for something to eat while you came home.”

Akaashi remained impassive. “I can see that,” he said pointedly. “I’m asking why you are _here._ ” In this apartment—these words were unheard but loud in its meaning. He could see the smile wobbled slightly on Bokuto’s face and his eyes flickered momentarily to the side before locking gazes once again.

“What do you mean, Akaashi,” he said, his smile looking more forced now and the sight made Akaashi’s heart clench in his chest. “It is my apartment too.”

The detective raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to side. “We broke up two months ago, Bokuto-san,” he said softly as gave his ex-boyfriend a onceover. “You moved out.”

And it was true. They broke up because Akaashi had wanted to, and Bokuto didn’t try to fight it as he gave the detective a smile before he packed his bag. He remembered the wide smile on the other man’s face as he gave him a one-armed hug at the doorway, reminding him to eat his meals before he left, where there was no contact from him until Akaashi found out that Bokuto had gone overseas for an assignment.

Bokuto’s shoulders slumped, as he let out a sigh. “I did,” he nodded before staring at Akaashi with wide eyes. “But I need a place to stay right now.”

Akaashi eyed him. “Don’t you have your own apartment?”

“I didn’t find one before I left for my assignment. I was bunking with Konoha for a while.”

Akaashi sighed, feeling the oncoming headache at the sides of his head. “Why didn’t you go to his place instead?”

The other man let out a nervous chuckle. “I would,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “But he’s got a girlfriend now and I don’t want to cramp his style, y’know?”

Akaashi wouldn’t know, but he didn’t press on it. “Kuroo-san?” he asked instead although he knew the answer to it before Bokuto’s panicked shake of his head.

Neither of them had told Kuroo about the break up; as far as the messy-haired detective knew, they were still together and oh so in love. In fact, no one knew about it, with the exception of Konoha and Kozume from the Medical Office.

Bokuto was still staring at him, his eyes doing the pitiful look that Akaashi knew and loved. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was too tired to argue, what with the case with Kageyama on Daishou had just been settled, and he knew Bokuto wouldn’t go down easily.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “I’ll let you stay for a few days. You’re taking the couch, Bokuto-san.”

The other man’s expression instantly brightened and he nodded enthusiastically. “Don’t worry Akaashi,” he said, flashing the detective a grin and a thumbs-up. “I’ll be out of your hair in a few days, once I wrap up this assignment and find a room to rent.”

Akaashi nodded absentmindedly before he excused himself to the bedroom, closing the door softly. He sat at the edge of his too-big bed and stared blankly at the wall, trying to ignore the feelings swelling in his chest.

 

.

 

If one were to ask Bokuto and Akaashi a few months back on how they had met, they would be met with a laughing Bokuto and a sheepish-looking Akaashi.

“You wouldn’t believe what had happened,” Bokuto would chortle, his arms around Akaashi who would be slightly pink in the face. “Trust me, I didn’t know what had happened too until I was flat on my back at the sidewalk.”

They had met during one of Bokuto’s reporting stint in trying to get an interview with one of the big charity CEO who had embezzled millions of dollars from the organisation. The doors to the courtroom had just slammed open and Bokuto, along with other reporters from other newspapers had raced towards the men surrounded by security and police, shoving their tape recorders under his noses. Security and the police tried pushing against the crowd, declining everyone’s requests for an interview. Then push came to shove, and Bokuto was hurled forward, clutching the shoulder of one of the men in suits from behind.

The next few second were a blur, Bokuto would say with a laugh. In that split second where Bokuto’s hand made contact with the man’s shoulder, there was a strong grip on his wrist and he was sent flying over the man’s shoulder before landing painfully on the concrete floor. Back screaming and vision swimming, the reporter took notice of the sudden silence that fell over the crowd and saw a pair of beautifully shaped eyes staring at him in surprise. The pair of dark eyes had sent a jolt down Bokuto’s spine and all the way to the hand that was still in the stranger’s grip.

“Oh… I’m so sorry.”

Bokuto hadn’t expected the smooth tenor voice that came with the handsome stranger but he couldn’t help the sudden increase of his heartbeat as the stranger pulled the dumbfounded Bokuto up to his feet, eyeing him wearily. And Bokuto being Bokuto, could only say the first thing that came into his mind.

“You’re really pretty.”

The man had looked a bit put off, although there was a tinge of red at the tips of his ears. They didn’t get to say anything else to each other, for the CEO had begun moving again and the man’s colleague had called out to him to move. With one last look, the beautiful stranger with almond-shaped eyes and dark, wavy hair nodded at Bokuto again and left.

It wasn’t until a week later that his friend Kuroo, having listened to Bokuto’s continuous rant about ‘the beautiful man with a mean throw’, had introduced him to his colleague and fellow detective Akaashi Keiji, the man who had been occupying the reporter’s thoughts for the past week.

Bokuto would continue laughing after telling the story, his arm around Akaashi tightening although the other man wouldn’t complain, his cheeks tainted a pretty pink and a small smile on his lips. It was times like these, when they looked at each other fondly, and the little touches of fingers to cheeks and hair, that one could see how well they fitted together, and how in love they both were with each other.

 

.

 

Akaashi woke up the next day with a heavy body and a heavier mind. He lifted an arm to drag his phone off the bedside table and squinted at the too bright screen. Slowly, he typed out a message to the chief, saying that he was feeling unwell and would not be in today and could he also take a few days of leave? The chief agreed, telling him to rest and report back to work the next week. The detective then sent a text to Matsukawa and Kozume the same before tossing the phone back on the table and buried himself under his quilt.

He felt sluggish and tired, and he didn’t want to do anything but curl up in bed for a long, long time.

There was a knock on the door.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto’s voice rang through the wooden door. “Are you getting ready for work?”

Akaashi didn’t respond, curling into himself even tighter, willing the other man to take the hint and leave him alone. But Bokuto wasn’t the type of person to leave him alone, and Akaashi groaned inwardly when the doorknob rattled, followed by the door swinging open.

“Akaashi?”

Akaashi sighed. “What is it, Bokuto-san?”

“Are you alright?”

He wasn’t alright, but he gave a slow nod from under his quilt.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” Akaashi mumbled, and his stomach gave a protesting growl. Bokuto must have heard it for the detective could hear the padding of his feet against the wood out of his room.

“I’ll make you something,” he said and Akaashi couldn’t find it in him to retort, pulling the quilt over himself tighter.

 

.

 

Akaashi stared at the duplicate key in his hand, cool to the touch. He slowly dragged his eyes up to find Bokuto across the table, fidgeting in his chair, his eyes on Akaashi’s face. The detective could see the slight hope in those golden eyes and swallowed thickly.

“Bokuto-san,” he began hesitantly, his eyes flicking back down to the key once more. “Is this…”

The other man nodded vigorously, his eyes never leaving the detective’s face. “Akaashi,” he began, his voice already too loud in the quiet café they were in. “I know you said you wanted to take it slow but we’ve been going out for a while now and I really want to take the next step with you.”

 “Move in with me.”

Akaashi had wanted to point out that four months of dating wasn’t long enough, even though they had known each other for longer, but the hopeful gleam that remained in his eyes still made Akaashi’s chest constrict, making it hard for him to breathe and sending a pleasant tingle down his spine. He bit his lower lip, staring at the key in his hand once again, the metal now warmed by the heat of his skin and gave a sight.

“Alright,” he said softly.

Bokuto blinked owlishly at him. Once, twice, and then the words began to sink and he broke into a blinding grin. “Yes!” he exclaimed, reaching over the table to pull Akaashi into a tight embrace, knocking their cold cups of coffee off the table and onto the floor. The older man paid no heed to his surroundings, his face glowing in happiness as he pulled away from the detective, his eyes taking in Akaashi’s whole face.

“I’m going to make you so happy, I promise,” Bokuto said, his expression softening and Akaashi felt his breath taken away by that. He ducked his head, eyes downwards and watched his hand close around the duplicate key.

“I know,” he whispered as butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

 

.

 

When Akaashi didn’t move after a few hours to eat the food Bokuto had prepared for him earlier, the reporter found the detective shivering under the thick comforter, face flushed, and still in his work clothes. He gingerly placed his palm on Akaashi’s forehead and nearly yelped in surprise at the unnatural warmth.

“You’re burning up!” Bokuto exclaimed as he tried to pull the comforter off the bed. But it was no easy feat with Akaashi gripping the edges of the comforter with all his might. “Akaashi, you’re sick!”

Even in his weakened state, Akaashi forced a minute shake of his head. “No,” he whispered, too soft, “I can… take care of myself…”

He didn’t want to burden Bokuto—he was sure the reporter had work to do, what with his recent assignments and all. But the older man shook his head as he gave another powerful tug of the comforter, which finally escaped Akaashi’s grip.

“No,” he exclaimed. “I’m going to take care of you, just like I promised.”

Too tired weak to protest, Akaashi could only allow Bokuto to prop him up the bed just as his vision went blurry.

 

.

 

It only took one bad case for everything to start crumbling.

It was one of the cases where Akaashi felt the most helpless, his eyes wide with shock as his outstretched hand brushed the barest of skin—and then nothing. And Akaashi was left to stare at the empty space at the other side of the railing, his heart dropped to the pits of his stomach as his ears roared with the screams of the public from below.

He was sent home by Matsukawa and Akaashi had only noticed that he was at the door of his apartment after staring at the wooden surface for a long time. Letting out a shaky breath, he unlocked the door softly, his eyes falling onto the thrown shoes at the genkan, his heart sinking further into him. He could see the light from the kitchen and hear Bokuto’s excited humming as he went around the kitchen, pots and pans clanking. The detective realised belatedly that they were supposed to be celebrating their first year anniversary together that night, with a simple home cooked dinner followed by a movie, and dread crept up his spine.

After today’s case, he didn’t feel like seeing Bokuto. Slowly, he crept across the living room, socked feet padding softly on the floor, trying not to draw attention to himself.

“Akaashi? You’re home?”

Biting back a curse, Akaashi turned around to find Bokuto by the doorway to the kitchen, wearing the gold, owl-printed apron that they two had picked out as a joke when they first moved in and a wide smile on his face. Akaashi swallowed.

“Bokuto-san,” he mumbled and something in his tone must have given him away for Bokuto’s smile slid from his face and he was standing in front of the detective in seconds.

“What’s wrong, Akaashi? Are you okay?” he asked, his big hands reaching out to cradle Akaashi’s face, but the detective jerked his head away, averting his eyes to the floor. He didn’t see Bokuto’s hurt expression as he turned away and took a few steps back.

“Sorry, Bokuto-san,” he said, walking towards the bedroom. “Let’s do this another time.”

But Bokuto was persistent, following Akaashi into the bedroom, and watched his boyfriend toss his jacket on the floor before pulling his tie off. Akaashi ignored him, changing into a ratty oversized t-shirt (which he belatedly realised as Bokuto’s) and sweatpants, kicking his work clothes near the laundry basket.

“Akaashi?”

The detective paused to take in a deep breath, his hands clenching by his sides. “Not now, Bokuto-san,” he said as patiently as he could, his back to him.

“But—“

_“I said not now!”_

In the past few months they have lived together, neither had heard Akaashi yell like that. There was a moment of stunned silence in the room as the detective processed what had happened. He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind and his chest clenched at the thought of Bokuto’s upset expression which he had been privy to witness a few times. He felt a building pressure at the corners of his eyes and suddenly knew he couldn’t be around the reporter at that moment. He pulled his work pants from the floor, shucking it on over the sweats. He grabbed the jacket, shrugging it over the old t-shirt and turned to walk out the door. Bokuto, stunned, didn’t do anything as he shouldered past him, grabbing his wallet and his keys, ignoring the laid dining table, complete with a small bouquet at the side. He slid on his shoes and opened the door.

“Akaashi.”

It was soft and unlike Bokuto to sound so vulnerable but Akaashi couldn’t deal with it then. Without a backwards glance, he walked out and slammed the door shut.

Looking back, he realised that this incident was the beginning of his crumbling relationship.

 

.

 

He couldn’t pinpoint other exact moments that led to their breakup. It was like bits and pieces that piled up, slowly and surely, until it was all too much and it came crashing down. The stilted conversations that transpired for weeks after the night of their anniversary. The increased workload he volunteered for. Akaashi spending more time sleeping over at Kozume’s than at his own apartment.

Little by little, these moments frayed the threads of their relationship until one day, Akaashi came back early to find Bokuto on the sofa, laptop on hand as he worked on his report.

“Bokuto-san,” the detective began and Bokuto looked up in surprise. He closed his laptop and placed it on the coffee table as he gave him his fullest attention.

“What’s up, Akaashi?” he asked as casually as he could although Akaashi could see the tension in his shoulders.

Akaashi didn’t reply immediately, as he averted his eyes to his hands, squeezing his fingers together until it hurt. The thought had been lying in the back of his head for weeks, ever since the night of their anniversary and laid heavy on his tongue. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Bokuto’s (always big, always warm) hands wrapped around his, thumbs circling the skin gently and Akaashi  looked up to find his golden eyes watching him wearily, with a hint of hope. There was a painful throb in his chest but Akaashi parted his lips—

“I want to break up.”

There was a widening of golden eyes before resignation sets in them and soon the warmth in Akaashi’s hands disappeared as Bokuto pulled back. There was no screaming, no protests when Bokuto looked at him, his smile so pained that Akaashi wanted to take his words right back.

“Okay.”

 

.

 

The next time Akaashi woke up, he felt infinitely better. His head was no longer heavy although he felt weak and tired still. A deep growl from his stomach indicated his hunger and Akaashi shifted in bed, head turning to the side to find a covered bowl on the bedside table. Sitting up slowly, he brought the bowl to his lap, and removed the cling film over the lid. The smell of food made his mouth water and Akaashi ate the warm porridge quickly, savouring the warmth in his belly.

He placed the bowl back onto the table top as he swung his legs over the bed and onto the cool floor. Shivering slightly, he looked down to find himself clad in a thick sweater and sweatpants. He bit his lower lip, pulling the comforter off the bed to wrap himself with it as he opened the bedroom door.

He could see the back of Bokuto’s head from the sofa in the living room, his usually styled hair laid soft and damp on his head, and Akaashi knew from experience it made him look younger and more innocent like that. He could hear the sound of typing and assumed the reporter was working on his assignment. He walked towards the sofa and it was just before he reached it that Bokuto turned around, surprised colouring his expression before it was replaced by a warm smile.

“Hey hey Akaashi,” he greeted and Akaashi felt warm from his voice. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” the detective replied, his voice hoarse from the lack of use. Bokuto closed his laptop and scooted over the sofa, patting the space beside him. Akaashi took the invitation to sit, being mindful to keep a gap between them. He saw Bokuto’s eyes flickered disapprovingly at the space between them but he didn’t say anything and Akaashi couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Why are you really here, Bokuto-san?” There was a heavy feeling in his heart as he asked, too tired to figure out on his own and remembering the little quirks of the other man that made him so endearing.

The smile had slid off the other man’s face and Akaashi recognised the stern look on his face—it was the one where he absolutely would not tolerate nonsense and took everything seriously. He turned his body fully on the sofa to face Akaashi and lock gazes with the detective.

“I want to start over.”

Akaashi let out a soft snort. “Why,” he said flatly. “You agreed to the break up two months ago; what changed?”

Bokuto shook his head. “I regretted not saying anything then Akaashi. I thought you needed some space—some time—and I gave that to you.”

“But I’ve regretted every single day that I didn’t fight back.”

There was a tightening feeling in his chest as Akaashi pulled the comforter closer to his body. He was no longer looking at Bokuto in the eye; instead focusing his gaze to the collar of Bokuto’s shirt (which he realised was the one he had bought for Bokuto on his birthday before). “But,” he began thickly, swallowing. “We didn’t work out. We weren’t prepared.”

And it was true. They were going so fast in their relationship that Akaashi never noticed the lack of serious communication between them. He didn’t know how to handle having someone near him while he grieved and Bokuto wouldn’t have known how to deal with the detective if he did not talk to him about it. Even though they had many great memories being together, there had been glaring flaws in their relationship.

He hadn’t noticed Bokuto had gotten closer to him until there was a tap on his chin and Akaashi was forced to look up to find Bokuto watching him with a pained expression that caused a sharp twinge in his chest.

“Akaashi,” he whispered, and Akaashi could feel tears springing from the corners of his eyes at the sound of his name. “I know I have a lot of things to work on, but I want to be with you.”

“I love you, and all I want to do is to make you happy.”

Bokuto’s golden eyes glimmer as his bottom lip trembled. “But,” he continued, his voice wavering slightly. “If you don’t want to, then I understand. I’ll go and will never bother you again.”

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Akaashi took a shuddering breath. The memory of their first kiss, the infectious smile Bokuto had afterwards and the happiness Akaashi felt inside him to the tips of his fingers caused the tears to slowly roll down his cheeks. He looked away, fingers tightening over the comforter scrambling to put his thoughts in order.

It wasn’t that he stopped loving Bokuto, because he still did. But his outburst that night had scared him and Akaashi didn’t want something like that to happen again. He didn’t want a future where Bokuto would get tired of it—of _him_ —and leave him. So he made the decision for them, even though—

“I love you too,” his voice was low, barely audible but he knew Bokuto heard it clearly, judging from the sharp intake of breath from the other man. Akaashi sniffed. “I was afraid… that you’ll leave me one day.”

Bokuto let out a shaky laugh. “Why would I do that?” he asked, his eyes looking over Akaashi’s face searchingly. “I promised I’ll make you happy, didn’t I? And I’m going to do it for life.”

The earnest reiteration of his promise from when he first asked the detective to move in with him was what did it for Akaashi. With a strangled sob, Akaashi threw his arms around Bokuto’s neck, burying his face into the other man’s shoulder. He felt the other man’s strong arms wrapped tight across his waist as he sobbed silently into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered shakily into the damp fabric of Bokuto’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Bokuto’s arms tightened. “I’m sorry too,” the reporter whispered into his hair, voice thick from the tears.

As they held onto each other until they exhaust all tears, Akaashi thought that if this really was love, he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

 

.

 

“Man, I’m glad to hear that you guys are finally back together. I was prepared to kick you off my sofa and all.”

Bokuto laughed into his phone as Konoha cackled from the other end of the line, stirring the small pot of miso soup.

“Hey, sorry for all the trouble, Konoha! But yeah, we’re back together and we’re gonna make our relationship more awesome than before!”

He heard his partner laugh heartily. “Great,” Konoha said. “So I can expect you back in the office next week?”

“Why? I thought you’d rather partner with Washio than me!” Bokuto exclaimed as he turned the stove off, wiping his hands onto the gold apron.

“I did, but Washio’s face tend to scare anyone off for a potential interview, ya know?”

Bokuto laughed. “Yeah, I’ll be back next week,” he said just as he heard the front door open. “Ah, Akaashi’s back. I’ll talk to you again later!”

“Alright, have fun, you two,” Konoha sniggered before they ended the call. Bokuto walked out of the kitchen to find Akaashi at the genkan still, slipping his shoes off as neatly as he always had.

“Hey hey hey Akaashi! Welcome home!” he greeted and the detective looked up, a small, loving smile on his thin lips as his beautiful dark eyes landed on the reporter.

“I’m home, Bokuto-san.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://forever-wonder2.tumblr.com/) if you wanna talk to me about my fics or anything Haikyuu!!


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